


In Aegritudine et Sanitate

by TheosOxonian



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:02:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheosOxonian/pseuds/TheosOxonian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James gets ill, Robbie gets sympathetic.   Just a bit of fluff for an early autumn evening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Aegritudine et Sanitate

**Author's Note:**

> So this was inspired by a horrid cold I came down with just as the temperatures soared into the high 20's over summer. This side of the pond that's a heat wave - train tracks buckle, buildings melt cars and Tesco runs out of cheap larger. It's a national disaster. 
> 
> And in the Lewis/Hathaway household it leads to a bed-ridden sergeant.

Robbie paused in the doorway to the spare bedroom and leant against the jamb as he loosened his tie, letting the ends drape carelessly against his already untucked shirt as his eyes adjusted to the dim room. James was curled up in the single bed, long limbs tucked around his body, face turned into the pillow and the single sheet coiled tight around him. It was an unconsciously protective, almost childlike pose that always made him smile. Educate a man all you like, give him the all the wisdom of the ages, and sit at his feet; but let him catch a cold and then sit back and watch him turn into a five year old child. 

Moving carefully into the room he watched James’ sleeping form with a critical eye. He seemed calmer today; his breathing even, the bed clothes less disturbed. But his cheeks were still pink, still flushed. Not a natural look, and most certainly not on his James. He touched a hand to his forehead, resting palm against skin, brushing away the short, fine trails of blonde hair with gentle fingers. He seemed a bit cooler, his skin less clammy, but he was still hot to the touch. Poor lad, running a temperature in 27 degree heat. Trust James to get a vicious cold during the only heatwave of the year. He inched the sheet down past James shoulders, baring his back and upper arms to the relative cool of the darkened room. A grey head stirred at the movement and green eyes stared up at him accusingly. 

“Oh I’m sure you’re being a great help regulating body temperature,” Robbie said as he reached out to stroke the top of Monty’s head. “Just what he needs, you making a pest of yourself. And he indulges you too much to kick you out of bed. I should probably put my foot down about that,” he added after a self-reflective pause. “Come on you,” he insisted, making a gentle grab for Monty who resisted his prodding fingers with sanguine patience.

“Out you great furry hot water bottle,” Robbie instructed as he dug further beneath the sheet and wrapped a hand around his tail, stroking against the lie of his fur until Monty dislodged himself and slipped out of the covers, raising himself to four paws with a toss of his head and leaping smoothly from the bed before stalking out of the bedroom with his tail swishing.

“Yes I know how to rub you up the wrong way,” Robbie agreed as he watched the retreating cat, utterly secure in the knowledge that in a few minutes time he’d likely be spooning cat food into a dish and refreshing his water while Monty mewed piteously and wound himself around his legs. 

“Did you know scientists in America have hypothesised that a cat’s purr can be used as a healing mechanism?” a muffled voice asked.

“Yeah, are they the same ones that stuck a shrimp on a treadmill?” Robbie queried with a smile as James emerged from the bedding. “How you feeling pet? Any better?”

“A bit,” James agreed, “I only had two naps today. But my head still hurts and if I get up too quickly I get dizzy,” he added gravely, his hazel eyes wide and blinking. 

“Relax,” Robbie insisted with a grin as he reached out to stroke James’ hair, his hand coming to rest lightly against his neck, the contact comforting for both men. “No one’s suggesting you’re well, there’s no need to end the dying swan routine quite yet. If you can keep if going for a few more days I suspect Laura will feel the need to bring something in an ovenproof dish and the Chief Super might even stretch to a get-well card. Two sick days in a row; people are starting to think I’ve murdered you. And if you don’t come back to work we’ll never find out how I did it.”

“It would have been a kindness on Sunday,” James suggested with a groan as he turned onto his back and stretched out, testing the twist and twinge of this muscles. He glanced up at Robbie and met his eyes with a smile, before dipping his head to press a kiss to his knuckles.

“Well you survived it,” Robbie pointed out phlegmatically. 

“Barely,” James insisted, “You kicked me out of bed in the middle of the night.”

“You took yourself off to the spare room!” Robbie pointed out, “at about eleven o’clock wheezing and grumbling like an old man all the way. I wheeze and grumble every night, you could have stayed for me.”

“You had work in the morning,” James said, “I didn’t want to keep you up. And don’t confuse me with facts, I’m ill.”

“Yeah don’t I know it,” Robbie agreed good naturedly. “Come on Beth March, let’s get you up for the evening.” 

James grunted feelingly and pulled the sheet back up over his head letting it settle in a gentle flutter as he closed his eyes. He lowered it again a few moments later shoving the sheet in the direction of his waist with another grumble that Robbie couldn’t quite decipher. “It’s too hot to be ill,” he complained.

“I know,” Robbie agreed sympathetically as he wandered from the room and turned toward their bedroom in search of his own change of clothes, “but you’ll feel better once you’re up and have some food inside you.”

“Promise?” James demanded, raising his voice to carry into the next room. 

Robbie huffed a laugh as he stripped off his shirt and tossed it toward the washing basket, reaching for a light cotton T-shirt from the drawer and a pair of linen trousers.

“Promise,” he agreed as he perched on the end of the bed to remove his socks, sending them the same way as the shirt, “Laura’s given me a recipe, say’s it’s dead easy. Reckon I can have it on the table by the time you’ve struggled manfully through a cool shower and hunted out some proper clothes.“

“Actual cooking?” James asked with the raise of an eyebrow as he appeared at the doorway, “that might make it worth getting up, if only for the entertainment value.”

“There’ll be no entertainment,” Robbie insisted as he took a moment to study James, appreciating the sight of his long, pale body clad in only a pair of old, novelty boxers that did little to preserve his modesty. “You really do need to eat something more than soup and toast though, you’ve lost weight over the last few days.”

James grimaced but acknowledged the point. “We’ll see,” he said noncommittally.

“We will,” Robbie agreed as stood up and came to rest beside James, running a finger along the line of a rib, his hand coming to rest against the smooth skin of his waist as they exchanged a lingering kiss. Robbie pulled back to find James staring down at him with a fond expression and a half smile.

“What?” he asked when it became clear James was disinclined to offer anything further.

“Nothing,” James said as his smile widened and he bent to offer a second, brief kiss. “Go on, I’m up, Go and tame the twirling fur beast,” he insisted, “I can hear him meowing from here.”

“Get a shower and put some clothes on,” Robbie insisted in response as he nonetheless wandered away to obey the instruction. Descending the stairs into the warmth of the hallway he had cause to wonder quite how his life had evolved to include two demanding males who seemed to require waiting on hand and foot. If Val could see him she’d laugh herself sick. Maybe he’d ring Lynn later and let her laugh at his plight. 

Half an hour later James appeared in the kitchen dressed in a threadbare pair of checked cotton trousers and a T-shirt that wasn’t in much better shape.

“Do you own any proper clothes that aren’t for work?” Robbie asked as he poked at one of the more obvious holes with the handle of spoon he’d been taking to the table.

James slapped his hand away with a sharp tut. “Don’t,” he demanded, “this shirt’s delicately aged, you’ll damage it.” 

“A stiff wind would damage that,” Robbie observed as he reached for the salt and pepper from the cupboard to finish laying the table.

“It’s vintage,” James insisted as he looked down, casting a critical eye over the faded colours of the pattern. “I saw The Levellers when I was nineteen; it was one of the first proper gigs I went to. I like it,” he concluded definitively.

“It might be vintage love, but it’s one wash cycle from becoming a duster,” Robbie pointed out indulgently, chuckling at the flash of panic that crossed James’ face. 

“Can we hand wash it?” he asked plaintively a moment later.

“Absolutely,” Robbie agreed solemnly as he bent to peer into the oven.

“You’re humouring me because I’m ill aren’t you?” James asked as he moved to rest against the counter, his shoulder braced against the mug cupboard.

“Yup,” came the only response as Robbie made a long-armed reach for the oven gloves, smiling his thanks as they were edged within his reach. “It’s ready I think,” he concluded. “At least it’s bubbling and dripping onto the base of the oven.”

“Baking tray,” James suggested distractedly. “What’s this?” he asked, fingering an envelope with his name on which was propped up against the vase of flowers Robbie had brought home yesterday. 

“Something the Chief Super gave me. It’s not shaped like a P45 or an arrest warrant so I think it might be safe to open it,” Robbie suggested as he retrieved a couple of warm plates and set them on the table.

“It’s a card,” James observed unnecessarily as he read the short message with a small, shy smile. 

“Thought it might be,” Robbie agreed as he lifted dinner out of the oven and placed it on the large cork mat in the centre of the table, raising himself up to peer over James’ shoulder. “Nice of her,” he observed as he lifted the lid before tossing the oven gloves onto the nearest worktop. 

“What is dinner?” James asked as he carefully arranged the card in front of the vase, tilting it until he had the angle to his satisfaction. Robbie watched him with a gentle, slightly sad smile. For most people a get-well card from the boss, no matter how genuine the sentiment, wouldn’t generate a quite such a sense of joy. But for James it somehow did. Just like the flowers he’d brought home shouldn’t have brought a suspicious shine to his eyes. 

“Not sure actually,” Robbie admitted as he dolled a large spoon of stew onto James’ plate. “But Laura assures me it’s full of easily digestible nutritional goodness guaranteed to raise near-dead sergeants from their sick beds”.

“Ah the ovenproof dish,” James said with a sudden flash of understanding. “I was about to ask how you’d managed stew and dumplings in half an hour. “

“Magic!” Robbie said with a grin as they sat down to eat after James offered up a quick prayer of thanks. They settled into a quiet, comfortable silence, Robbie gradually becoming more relaxed, the stress of the day falling away as the sun dipped below the horizon and the air cooled. It was pleasant, sat here like this, sated with food cooked by a friend, the gentle sounds of the dimming day drifting in through the open kitchen door. 

James looked across at him, his soft brown eyes once again heavy with the lure of sleep. 

“Anything more?” Robbie asked, fully expecting the negative answer he received, “Well why don’t you go lie down on the sofa?” Robbie suggested, his voice soft in the quiet of the room.

“I’ll help you clear up,” James said, even as he yawned involuntarily, a little guilt tingeing the apologetic smile he offered.

“Go lie down,” Robbie assured him, “make the most of it while my patience lasts. And it wont take long, the stew needs to cool before it can go in the fridge so it’s just a case of clearing the table and loading the dishwasher.”

“It’ll be quicker if I help,” James suggested.

“Sofa,” Robbie said again as James lingered in the doorway.

“Are you coming through when you’re done?” James asked hesitantly and Robbie turned away to hide his smile, a little amused but mostly just pleased that all James seemed to want was to spend some time together. It had been an odd few days, sleeping apart and him away at work all day. 

“I will,” he agreed, “but not if you don’t bugger off and leave me in peace. Now go sit on the sofa.” 

“Okay,” James agreed as he slouched off with a slightly sheepish expression. Watching him leave with a grin Robbie turned on the tap and rinsed the plates before stacking them into the half full dishwasher. Rinsing plates, dishwashers and feeding the cat. Yep, Lynn was going to love it. 

When he wandered through to the living room about half an hour later James was dozing in a corner of the sofa, his long legs tucked under him in a way that didn’t seem entirely comfortable. Placing a couple of glasses of water on the coffee table Robbie sank heavily onto the other end of the sofa, the movement causing James to open his eyes, his expression softening as he realised Robbie had fulfilled his promise. 

“Hey,” James said sleepily as he sat up and ran a hand over his face.

“Still tired?” Robbie asked as he reached for James’ hand as it fell to his lap, entwining their fingers together, taking in his sleepy expression, the way his normally bright, alert eyes were shadowed, the way his hand clung tightly to his own. He didn’t like being ill. Didn’t like the way it stifled his thoughts, dulled and dimmed him. Uncomfortable being less than his best, being vulnerable.

“A bit,” James admitted, “But then again I’ve only had one cup of coffee today, you’re lucky I’m even registering a GCS score.”

“A bit less caffeine wont hurt either of us,” Robbie suggested as drew James down into his lap, his free hand meditatively stroking a hand across the spiky silk of his hair, fingers massaging slow, gentle circles.

James murmured appreciatively, pushing into the touch for a few moments before settling himself comfortably, squirreling into the cushions and curves of Robbie, tucking their joined hands against his chest. Robbie smiled and touched a finger to James’ face, drawing a long, gentle line along the sculpted curve of his cheekbone, taking time to enjoy the strangely soft side to his partner. James was usually all angles and edge, but here, curled up among the cushions with sleep heavy eyes there was a rare and beautiful quietude. 

“Missing my tea making skills?” James asked as he released his grip, fingers moving instead to draw idle patterns along the side of Robbie’s knee.

“Something like that,” Robbie agreed, sighing a little, frustration edging his normally placid voice. 

James tipped his head back a little and glanced up at Robbie, taking a moment to catalogue the differences in his face from this angle, the way his cheek bones seemed longer, his nose bigger. He looked tired too; the bruises under his eyes deeper, the set of his shoulders lower, his gaze distant. 

“Hey,” James said quietly, drawing Robbie’s eyes downward, smiling softly, “things okay at work?” he queried, a little ashamed that he hadn’t even thought to ask until now. 

“Yes, just fine,” Robbie assured him, “Uniform are swamped with the usual load of minor calls weather like this generates, but we’re okay, it seems it’s too hot to murder anyone. So no fresh cases, you’re not missing anything. Worried that Hooper’s going to outclass you in your absence?” he teased.

“Hardly. So it’s beer and boy racers,” James summarised as he turned back onto his side, pressing his cheek against the firmness of Robbie’s thigh with another quiet huff of contentment. It was an odd little noise, rare too. A gentle, soft little sound, the kind he sometimes made on the edge of sleep as he burrowed into the duvet, the kind of noises that Robbie had long ago realised settled his heart. 

“Yep,” he agreed with a slight sigh, “the heat’s getting to us all I think.”

“What happened?” James asked after a beat, his dulled brain taking a moment to catch onto the tone in Robbie voice.

“Nothing,” Robbie insisted a little too firmly. 

“What happened?” James asked again. “You can’t lie to me,” he pointed out as the silence continued, “I’m a highly trained detective; my skills have been honed by years of experience. And if you try and lie there are more sensitive things down here I can start jabbing,” he added as an afterthought.

“Hands where I can see them!” Robbie objected quickly, swatting lightly at wandering hands as they made a half-hearted dart toward his lap.

“Well?” James asked as they settled down again.

Robbie sighed but realised that James would get the full story when he came back to work anyway. “Nothing,” he said again, “well nothing much,” he corrected. “It just turns out that after two days without a decent cup of tea I get a bit fractious.”

“Caffeine withdrawal?” James suggested after a moment.

“Possibly. Probably, as it turned out,” Robbie agreed.

James opened one eye and glanced up at Robbie, waiting patiently for the rest of the story. 

“I may have been a bit out of sorts and ended up having a bit of a rant at the photocopier. When Innocent was walking past. With some VIP or other,” Robbie added with a sigh.

“So she did what?” James asked barely bothering to suppress his interest.

“Phoned Laura and demanded to know if I was suffering from heat exhaustion, separation anxiety or if it was just plain old fashioned grumpiness so she could reprimand me.”

“Like that ever does any good,” James observed, “so what did Dr Hobson say.”

“Don’t know, but she turned up half an hour later with an iced coffee from that place you always go to and made me drink the whole thing before she’d leave the office.”

“Smart woman,” James observed with a touch of admiration as Robbie muttered something that might have been reluctant agreement. “Hang on, you drank Iced coffee?” James demanded as he turned onto his back, “and I missed it. No one else in the office knows the other signs of the apocalypse. The world could be ending and we wouldn’t know.”

“Well we appear to have survived so far,” Robbie commented, “but yes, I did drink iced coffee,” he agreed with a wry smile as he ran a finger along James’ nose, slipping lower to trace the generous line of this bottom lip.

“And did it help?” James asked amusement lacing his voice.

“It did,” Robbie admitted reluctantly. “I was cooler and calmer afterwards.”

James huffed out a laugh, easily imagining the scenario, the myriad little irritations that would have built over the last couple of days, all the minutia that he took care to keep well away from Lewis; photocopiers, printers, tea-making, the dafter witnesses, even some colleagues. 

“What were you doing at the photocopier?” James asked, his body suddenly slightly tense, his voice more alert than it had been for days.

“Relax I’ve not touched your filing,” Robbie assured him, “there’s piles of crap in your in-tray. You can have a lovely time organising when you come back. It was some receipts for the expenses.

“I do our expenses,” James objected, “I have a system.”

“Yes, and your system is that you photocopy the receipts at the end of each day, keep the originals and put the photocopies in the green folder,” Robbie pointed out with exaggerated patience, “it’s fine, I can cope for a few days without you. I even managed to find clean underwear this morning, all on my own. Tomorrow I might even manage matching socks.”

“All your socks are black,” James observed distractedly, “they always match. I should go in tomorrow,” he continued, “at least make a start on the paperwork.”

“You’re staying here,” Robbie insisted firmly, the hand on his hip suddenly heavier, as though he could impress the weight of his words by touch alone. “We can manage while you get yourself well.”

“Just a few hours,” James continued, “I could be home by lunch time.” He felt rather than saw Robbie shake his head. “No offence love but you last night you couldn’t manage to walk up the stairs without sounding like a bronchial emphysema patient, you’re in no fit state to try and work.”

“I’d just be sat at a desk,” James insisted.

“No you wouldn’t, you know what you’re like. You’d be up and off chasing something from someone from somewhere before I’d even managed to sit down,” Robbie pointed out. “And why is it that a threat to your carefully organised desk that prompts a recovery? What happened to naps and dizziness?” he asked.

James shifted sulkily, “Don’t try and pick holes in my attempts at being big and brave,” he objected a little petulantly.

“Yes I’m a big mean old man,” Robbie agreed cheerfully.

“You are,” James agreed even as he pressed an apologetic kiss to Robbie’s fingers. “Just promise me you wont break anything before I come back,” he demanded, “photocopiers, colleagues, my systems.”

“I wont,” Robbie assured him with an indulgent smile. “Do you want to watch telly?” he asked after a few minutes easy silence. 

James turned over and studied the TV, deep in thought for a long moment. “Can you turn it on its side?” he asked.

“Nope, but we could turn you the right way up?” Robbie countered.

“Radical,” James remarked.

“Too radical?” Robbie asked.

“Far too radical,” came the emphatic response.

“Radio then?” Robbie offered, “we could find one of those serial things you like on the iplayer.”

“Yeah,” James agreed easily, making a long armed grab for his ipad which was never far from reach and passing it upward. 

There was silence for a while as Robbie searched through the various options. The evening was still young but night was beginning to show, the shadows fading with the light, the room slipping into muted tones which would later fade to greys. It was pleasant just sat like this. There’d rarely been nights like this before he met James, not for years anyway. Not often when he was young, and certainly not once the kids arrived with their beautiful mix of screams and laughter and tears. He’d imagined him and Val one day, a quiet house watched over by an array of family pictures on the mantelpiece. But here he was; here James was. And it was just perfect the way it was.

“Paul Temple?” Robbie eventually suggested, “might help satisfy your craving for police work.”

James turned back onto his other side and looked up at him with that same fond expression and half smile that he hadn’t quite understood earlier. He didn’t much understand it now but he liked the way it looked on James.

“What?” he asked again, smiling down at James, who only shook his head and raised himself up, angling for a kiss that Robbie was more than willing to provide.

“So, that’s a yes to Paul Temple?” he asked as James settled back down, tucking himself into a comfortable position as the distinctive opening music began. 

An hour or so later, after a couple of episodes of the drama Robbie shut down the ipad, resting it on the arm of the sofa, the movement rousing James. His head had become progressively heavier and it was clear he hadn’t heard all of the programme. 

“Don’t fight it,” Robbie said gently as he touched his fingertips to James’ cheek, feeling his long lashes flutter gently against his skin. “Your body needs sleep.”

James grumbled and pressed his face against the warmth of Robbie’s t-shirt, breathing in the familiar, calming scent. A hint of soap from his earlier shower, their washing powder and running through it all simply Robbie. His lover, his man.

“Come up to bed?” he suggested.

James protested with a more audible groan and shifted closer, pressing himself more firmly against Robbie. “I’m comfortable here,” he objected.

“You can be comfortable in bed,” Robbie pointed out, his palm cupping James’ face as he stared down fondly at the hazel eyes that emerged from beneath sleepy lashes. 

“I like this. I miss you,” James said after a moment, a sudden flash of his rare but beautifully simple honesty.

“Yeah,” Robbie agreed, surprised at how quickly he’d missed James lying beside him, the comforting, solid warmth of his presence, the cheeky, erotic thrill of his wandering hands, The beauty of his eyes and mouth and mind. “So come to bed,” he suggested again, “you wont disturb me.”

“You might get ill,” James pointed out, though it was a half-hearted objection and they both knew it. 

“If I was going to get it I’d have got it days ago,” Robbie pointed out and James conceded the point with a gentle, genuine smile. 

“Come to bed, love,” Robbie insisted softly as he returned the smile.

“Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse,” James agreed suggestively. “Actually I can,” he added ruefully after a moment’s consideration, “I think right now I’m too tired to know your arse from my elbow. Think you can carry me upstairs?” he asked before Robbie could pass comment on his choice of imagery.

“You’re on your own,” Robbie told him with a gentle shove which encouraged him up. “My back works very well with gravity; less well against it.”

“So do I take it you’ll be carrying me down to breakfast tomorrow morning?” James asked as he picked up his glass of water and quickly finished the remaining third. 

“Should this bout of man flu take a turn for the worse and you sneeze so hard your legs fall off…absolutely,” Robbie agreed as he moved to close the curtains, picking his way back across the room in the dull half light, pausing in the doorway as James returned the glasses to the kitchen before making their way upstairs together. “But only until Dr Hobson comes round with her sewing kit and strings you back together again.”

“Fair enough,” James agreed affably, “if they do fall off I’ll stack them by the wardrobe so you can find them easily. They’ll be the right way round; wouldn’t want her to sew them on back to front. Just so you know,” he added matter-of-factly.

“Sometimes I really worry,” Robbie observed in a despairing tone as they parted company at the top of the stairs. They were accustomed to each other’s habits and long used to their easy, unhurried routine; small observations as they shared the bathroom, dodging Monty on the landing, James always ready in bed by the time Robbie finished up. He was laid down tonight, book untouched on the nightstand, the bedside light dark. He snuggled up as Robbie joined him, a small, grateful sigh escaping as he found himself gathered close. It was a warm night, but not as warm as it had been and settled under just a cotton sheet their closeness was pleasant.

James’ head was pillowed on his shoulder and Robbie turned his head to press a kiss to his forehead. “How do you feel?” he asked.

James lifted his head and watched him for a long moment as he considered the question. His eyes were soft and that half smile was there again but this time Robbie didn’t bother to ask what it meant. James pressed a quick kiss to Robbie’s lips and then settled back down, murmuring just one word as he stilled. “Cherished.”

Robbie lifted his chin with gentle fingers and they regarded each other for a long moment. 

“Love you,” James added and Robbie smiled, nodding in agreement as he pulled him close again.

“I love you too, you daft sod,” he said quietly against his ear, “I love you and I cherish you, in sickness and in health, two legs or none.”

He felt James smile against his neck, a lingering press of his lips following a moment later. Robbie slipped lower, bringing himself level with James as their heads rested on the same pillow. They watched each other as stillness began to overtake them, sharing the odd, soft kiss, neat little nips and nibbles that brought a gentle, heartfelt smile to James lips. He inched closer, pressing the long length of himself against Robbie, who took the hint and pulled him close, wrapping a firm arm around his back, holding him safe within the strength of his body as their kisses lengthened and deepened in the slow sticky warmth of the late summer evening. But they soon slowed again, James’ limbs loosening, his hands stilling as sleep came quickly for him. 

As he tried unsuccessfully to return James to his side of the bed a soft weight landed on the mattress and moments later the cat stepped gracefully around Robbie’s head and took peremptory possession of James’ pillow, stretching out with his head on his paws, starting back at Robbie as though daring him to object. He gave up with a disgusted grunt and tried to carve out enough space to sleep. It really wasn’t easy sharing a house with a six foot three leggy blonde and an imperious cat, and Lynn was going to laugh herself sick. It really was a hard life. A hard, hard life.


End file.
